Chapter Text
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Chap. 0: Heroine of the Timeless
There was nothing. Emptiness. A recollection of nothing except a vague pain, fleeting and long-gone. Black. Empty. Nothing.
That is all there was, for what felt like an eternity of silence, as a once eager, excitable mind fought through the dolor of medications not actively used on the planet for more than ten thousand years. Medications intended to do more than just stupefy and tranquilize, but to heal even the most grievous of injuries. This being knew nothing of that, though. It was all the being could do to register that the rhythmic, steady, but soft whuff, whuff was a heartbeat.
Eventually, though, the dosage of medication wore away, and after what felt like another century or more of timeless nothing aside from that same, steady, lifegiving beat, the being registered it was their heartbeat.
A heartbeat that sounded strange, unusual, in the dark nothing and surrounding silence. Strong... but hadn't it been fluttering, trying desperately to keep beating?
No. That couldn't be right.
A soft hiss, whoosh, quieter and much slower than the rhythmic drum of life eventually made itself known through the drug-addled mind, too. Breathing. Their breathing.
They were alive.
... But who were they?
The being found themselves confused by that question, as their mind finally began to truly wake up for the first time in over a hundred years. Eyes that had been shut in what amounted to total physical death blinked open, and saw... nothing. The exact same blackness. The same silence.
Well.
That was all the being could think as the eyes stared sightlessly into the void, which could have been either tiny or vast. They had no way to tell. There was a vague sense of... body. Extremities, maybe, but everything was made there to the being's mind more through tingly numbness than any other sensation. Maybe. There could have been cool air... and moisture. No... liquid, their mind supplied. They were suspended in liquid. Thick, viscous.
And it was dropping around them, or maybe they were rising out from it. Who could say?
This being didn't even know their name. If they had one.
How could they? Just being aware enough to have a single word going through their mind, describing the state between solid and gas was momentous! How could the brain, overtaxed to do that, realize who they were, if there was a name at all? Or what a name was, for that matter?
It was just too much.
After another long eternity, the last bits of fluid seemed to drain away from the body, and the tingling sensation mostly passed. It faded by the moment now, and as the body's eyes realized they were dry, they blinked in autonomous function. Another blink, another, and more time gone. Minutes, maybe. Hours? Days? It was hard to conceptualize, still, but the mind was clearing piecemeal. Thoughts and ideas ran rampant, but with nothing to connect them. No strands of data, no input, like a machine trying to run with half its internal components missing, and the wrong kind of fuel entirely.
Machines don't run on food and water, the brain told itself, and the being realized it was hungry, and thirsty.
It was alive.
The being bolted upright, feeling strange tingles through its torso, two upper limbs, and two lower, but mostly in its head, which pounded and throbbed anew with the sudden change in blood pressure. Even its heart skipped a beat!
As the being felt around, there were traces of moisture still in tiny little cracks around the edge of something semi-soft that they had been laying on, and now sat on with the two lower limbs slightly splayed for balance. Its body, it seemed, knew how to move on instinct, even if the mind was hazy. There was a raised ridge, which varied from the height of her shortest finger to its entire hand from the wrist down, with the shortest spot to the being's left.
It turned carefully, wary of the silent void now, and lowered (downward?) its legs through the gap.
Yes... there was the same soft material that made up the ridge around the (bed?) it had been laying on down there. As their feet (were they feet?) hit the stone(?) too, the being suddenly became aware of light, too.
Not a lot, but soft, orange spots began to appear rapidly, all around them. Faint at first, but glowing brighter all the time, until they resembled... fire. Fire, yes, that was the word. A torch, each of them, but not made of fire. Just the same color and... luminosity? What a weird, strange, complicated word! But it rolled through the being's mind like an after-thought, as the light spread and grew to reveal no endless, black and silent void...
But a room.
A room with a clear doorway, though it was closed, a plinth or pulpit-like pedestal near it, and... the strangest bed the being could ever remember seeing.
Which wasn't a lot, as the being remembered nothing at all. It was still odd, though, as they cast their eyes (what a fascinating, thing, too, to be able to see!) about the room. Wider on the base, it tapered to a space large enough to hold a being much larger than them, but clearly designed for a form like them. Two upper limbs, two lower, and the head. Yes... they had that. Their own body had made an impression over time, in the softer surface of the interior, but it was molded beyond that, too.
As they stared, the dregs of liquid, which glowed now a strange blue in the light coming from the circles on the walls, disappeared into the last little cracks, and the being stood. They swayed unevenly at first, and a hand thrown out to catch themselves on the bed's edge helped steady them as they stepped down. There was weight on their... chest, yes, that was the word. Breasts, they realized, and a glance down told them that the body was indeed female. I'm female, a woman. A young one, but an adult. Yes, that feels right.
They were covered in something soft and light, a wrap of some flexible, light gray material around their chest, helping to hold the swinging globes in place, and a similar bit of material that moved around their- no, her, the being corrected herself, waist and between her legs.
Gingerly, she stepped down and turned to see that above the bed, too, was another device. This one hung from the ceiling, and while the general design was similar to the bed's, it was far more complex. Narrow, thin spikes protruded from it at odd angles on little armatures, crystal spheres capped other rods, and the whole thing, she realized, hummed with some hidden, misplaced energy.
What is this?
She knew, somehow, that the device and bed combined had been keeping her alive, but had no idea how that worked. The room was otherwise faintly decorated with swirls and lines around the walls, and the glowing orange circles had lines between them in strange shapes, too. They almost looked like... stars. Constellations, which are arrangements of stars, her brain supplied, somehow. It sounded right, though. Some of them even had recognizable shapes. A bow there, a bird there, though obviously stylized and simple. As she looked around more, she saw the plinth had a device sitting in a recessed hole on the slanted top, and the door was composed not of a solid piece, but what looked like stone columns the same uniform gray as the floor, each inscribed with some sort of runic writing and fitted so closely together that the gaps were almost impossible to discern.
She looked around for a few minutes more, hoping for something she could identify as edible, or drinkable, but found nothing except the plinth itself and the object on it.
Which, as she tapped it, withdrew into the column about the width of her finger. She jumped back at the sudden, fast movement, but the device continued moving, almost blindingly fast. First it spun so the side which had been down now faced up, and then rotated to the left- ninety degrees, a quarter-turn- her mind told her. Then something clicked as a latch released. The object's upper half lifted up and out so that it was nearly vertical instead of slanted down, facing her.
There was a soft beep-boop.
And nothing.
Only her own suddenly panicked heartbeat, and rapid breathing.
Slowly, she reached out to take the oblong, thick but flat device. The front half lit up in her hands, and more words she did not recognize in letters she could not read flashed through the screen from the bottom to the top at break-neck speed.
Her mind whirred, too.
She knew this device. It was familiar in her hands, but she could not remember ever holding it. It was a fixture at her side, for a long time, part of her important... work? Duty? No... related to it, perhaps, but not her duty itself. A tool? Yes, that seemed right. Something she found frustrating, but useful.
Hm.
The scrolling letters, soft blue and square, blocky lines, stopped and then vanished.
Then symbols she did recognize, though she couldn't say how, appeared on the top left of the screen. A row of them, forming a... a word. Yes, a word. A sentence... a statement.
Loading...
More followed.
Detecting Hero Bloodline.
Hero Bloodline not found, "Link" not present.
Scanning.
Ganon Bloodline detected. Designation: Calamity detected.
Emergency protocols initiated.
Scanning.
Guardian Protocol corrupted. Calamity presence found in Guardian Mainframe.
Scripting Malware cleansing program... Scripting, please wait...
Complete.
Unable to access distribution node.
Location scan...
Complete. Shrine of Resurrection acknowledged.
Shrine of Resurrection occupied... scanning...
Occupant: Princess Zelda Amaryll Hyrule VII.
Bloodline: Hylian pureblood. Notation: Royal Family by direct line.
Scanning...
Holder is Princess Zelda of Hyrule. Marking...
Pain, suddenly, as a searing white light emanated from a little circle she hadn't even seen on one end of the little slab. It burned, searing into her flesh in an instant. Then it was gone, only a lingering discomfort and itch remaining on her forehead from where the light had struck.
Apologies, Princess, the device printed next, it was necessary.
"I," she spoke, and found it strangest of all that she could, and still knew how, "I- what- what did you do? That hurt!"
Apologies, Princess, it repeated, it was necessary. Your original brand, the one on your right hand was damaged. It should repair your connection to your bloodline's power.
Scanning...
"Wait... what? What power? Who am I? What bloodline?"
With more patience than she should have expected, the device printed more words, a longer string than it ever had before at once, though many were repeated. You are Princess Zelda Amaryll Hyrule, the seventh of that name. You are a pure-blooded Hylian, a direct line descendant of the royal family of that kingdom, the second such. The power you had lost access to was the fabled power of the Goddess, Hylia, said to reside in your family since time immemorial.
Searching records...
Records incomplete.
Data interpolation...
Records indicate a high likelihood that you were unable to access the divine power due to damage sustained while a youth. There is a high probability that this damage was sustained at the will of the Calamity. The marking this device gave you on your forehead should allow access to that power once more.
"But... but why? I don't... I don't remember anything!"
Her voice was high, almost shrill she thought, and plaintive, but she couldn't care less if it sounded like she was whining. From the looks of things, this... this rock, this machine, expected her to somehow stop something that was named Calamity! She was... nothing! How could it expect that of her?
Memory loss is to be expected. You suffered a thirty percent loss of the hippocampus on your morbidity. Thankfully, the Shrine of Resurrection has completed the regeneration process. This device estimates that there is a seventy-eight percent loss of memory, but no loss of functionality. You will re-learn all you lost.
You have no choice.
"But... what? What do you mean?"
The door surprised her by sliding open, one smooth pillar rising before the rest, then those beside it, and those beside them, until all of the door was wide open, and a woosh of colder air flowed into the room.
Go. Prepare. Dress. Arm yourself.
The Calamity grows stronger. It cannot be held at bay indefinitely.
You must.
"I don't understand," she heard herself whimper.
You will.
As she read the words, those heavy, weighted words, the light disappeared and the screen went dark. She poked it, again and again, but there was no response.
Finally, left with no other choice but a growing hunger in her belly, the woman, Zelda she supposed, shook her head, catching glimpses of still-wet, golden hair out of the corners of her eyes that reached to her ankles. It must have been growing, she realized, while she lay on the bed. After she wiped eyes that were too dry to weep in frustration, the woman made her way to the next room.
It was simply appointed, little more than a closet with another door on the far side. A single shelf held a white dress, torn and muddied, that had once been fancy and elegant, fit for a priestess... or a princess.
That and a pair of sandals, crafted of leather with thin soles, equally caked in mud but in slightly better shape, were all that sat on the shelf. Zelda stared.
Eventually, the object in her numb left hand beeped again, and she raised it to glare downward.
Dress yourself, Princess.
You may not remember, but those clothes belong to you.
Make your way outside. There is nothing here but a slow starvation and death for you, and a more painful, agonizing death for Hyrule.
If Hyrule falls to the Calamity because you did not have the wisdom and courage to act, the world will fall, too.
Calamity will be all that remains.
You are of the bloodline of a Goddess, Princess.
You must act.
I, too, wish it were not so.
But the situation is what it is. We cannot change it.
Not by staying here, at any rate.
Act.
With numb, trembling fingers, gasping and panting for breath though the exertion wasn't enough to strain a toddler, Zelda put the nearly weightless object, for all its size, on the shelf and reached out for the dress.
It had actually been cleaned, she realized, the brown was stained from dirt... and blood. Old blood, from the collar and shoulders down the left side. It had spilled past her chest and waist, even run down one leg, though most curled around that side, as if she had been carried, while bleeding out, facing upward after taking the wound and standing for a while.
The sandals were clean too, and surprisingly comfortable once she slipped them on. They went on first, because it felt strange to put this dress, so fine and yet so worn and tarnished, over her. Finally, with a sigh, she did.
... And immediately shivered. Just knowing it was old blood, her blood, that caked the dress gave her the willies. Zelda didn't feel like she was frightened of the sight of blood itself. She was, unfortunately, no stranger to violence. Was she?
It was so hard to say, and damn it all for being so frustrating!
But that was a lot.
And hadn't the device mentioned her... morbidity? Her hippocampus, too, whatever that was. Wait... no, she knew that, somehow. The center of her brain had been severely damaged. Had she actually died, and somehow the Shrine of Resurrection had done exactly that, and brought her back? Or kept her mind alive despite her body dying, until it could be revived through some arcane power?
She felt a strange wash of gratitude now vying for space in her overly-crowded (and yet strangely empty) head for the slab on the shelf, and the machines that had somehow kept her alive. However they worked, whoever had built them, it had apparently saved her life.
Of course she'd rather have her memories intact.
But at least she was alive to build new ones, wasn't she?
Once dressed, Zelda picked up the device once more, and found it attached conveniently to a spring-loaded clasp- a carabiner, she somehow recalled- on the dress' too-fancy belt. The weight felt comforting, familiar, there, for all it weighed very little. A device that large that looked like it was made of stone and glass should weigh more, she thought, but the whole thing was less than one of her thin sandals.
But it still felt right, having it there.
As it settled into place and she stood tall for the first time in... who knows how long, the other door opened in the same way the first one had. Beyond that was a long, long corridor filled with the same orange constellations on the walls and ceiling, leading out, and out, and eventually, up a stone staircase.
Then... sunlight.
Brilliant, bright, sunlight.
Zelda started to run, unaware of any conscious decision to do so, and soon she was out, for the first time in a hundred years, breathing the fresh, sweet air of her kingdom. Grass moved against her legs, swirled around the remains of the white dress, and was trampled beneath her sandals. Around her, trees nestled against gray granite cliffs. Overhead, the sky was a brilliant blue, marvelous, one of her favorite colors, she knew, it had to be, along with the vibrant green of grass and leaf, and gray stone, and yellow sun, and wildflowers of purple and pink and red and white and clouds too, and there was just so, so much she had missed without even knowing it existed, and-
Shadow.
Death.
Her eyes, sweeping over the wide, vast landscape of the kingdom once known as Hyrule, Zelda's eyes fell on the five great spires, angled in and around the majestic, hilltop fortress-palace that had been, she suspected, her home.
No... it was her home, once.
No longer.
Just at the edge of the horizon if the land hadn't risen to frame the castle itself, had she not been so high it would've been invisible, the great Castle Hyrule, home of her family for many generations, stood. Now, it was surrounded by death, and pain, and magic so foul that even from fifty or more miles away, it burned against her eyes, what felt like her very soul.
Zelda could not look away.
Chap. 1: Ghosts of the Past
A few vague, fleeting memories filtered through Zelda's mind as she stared at the distant castle. She was starting to believe it was her home… once.. Not that she had any reason to truly doubt the device on her hip, it was just... she couldn't be a princess. How many girls were born into the world wishing that, thinking that, and never finding it true? The odds were... astronomical.
But not everyone, she also knew, got a second chance. Though she could not remember any stories at all told by another or even read in a book, she knew no one else had come back from the dead. Yet she, apparently, had.
And she remembered little things. Only the smallest of details. The red on one wall reserved for certain visiting dignitaries. The purple carpeting in another hall, said to bring peace to others from foreign lands. Arguing voices. A crowded, cluttered space full of objects she couldn't remember or identify. A comforting, familiar place surrounded by books. A cake full of bits of fruit and the delicious flavor she had so loved.
The memories were gone as soon as they started, covered over by the dark magic that filled the castle now.
With a wrenching effort, Zelda tore her still-dry eyes away. She wanted to cry, but there wasn't enough moisture in her. Her lips were dry, but not chapped. Had the machine kept her healthy, but not hydrated? Strange.
A long, slower glance around, skipping over the castle, swept from the left to the right. If it was morning, then from the west to the east. High, snow-capped mountains, then rocky highlands, and another, even higher and larger range with one shadowed peak far in the distance... was that a hole in it? Had some great cataclysm punched a clean hole through that mountain? It was unimaginable, yet there it was.
Beyond that, tree-covered hills rose higher and higher beyond the castle, culminating in several jagged spires... and a volcano. Yes, that was the word. An active volcano, from which she could see a vibrant, angry red-orange glow and even a few streams of lava from this far distance. Leagues upon leagues away, it must have been huge. More highlands, and a broad valley, then more mountains too, far to the east of the castle, capped by not snow, but heavy rains falling from clouds that stretched for days’ worth of walking by foot.
Zelda had no idea how she knew that, but this land felt achingly, hauntingly familiar, despite the fact that it was nothing she knew or could name.
Then, as she continued to turn, there was another large mountain to the south, this one split in two, as if the earth itself had rent it asunder in an uneven break, not quite through the middle. Then the view was interrupted by something very clearly man-made.
A cathedral or temple or church of some sort, made of deep gray, charcoal-colored stone. It was close enough to where she stood that Zelda suspected she could reach it in an hour or two at a steady pace. The edifice rose hundreds of feet into the air, and she thought at first that it would be a good first destination.
Surely, such a powerful testament would have guards, leaders... someone to help, to explain to her what had happened, why she was here, awake, now.
What she should do.
But even as she looked, a brick or perhaps a shingle fell from near the top of the bell-spire, rolling and falling down the front until it smashed into the grass below with a puff of dust. It was too far to see the details, but even so...
It was ancient, old, and falling apart.
The temple, for all its majesty, was not being maintained properly.
Zelda sighed. It was still as good a destination as any... for now.
With a last glance around the edges of the many miles-wide plateau whose cliffside her current perch rested in the middle of, she could see that it was far above the greater plains between her and the castle. She would have to find a way down. Much of it was ringed in huge fortified crenelations, battlements, and barbicans.
Another memory then, as brief as the first, of visiting this place once in her youth. How impressed she had been at the size of the place, of the work of many hundreds of men over centuries that had gone into crafting it all.
Gone. Wasted.
Hyrule, it seemed, had fallen along with its castle.
But she could not find it in her heart to mourn. She could not remember it. After all, only the palest glimpses of shadows of memory remained to her.
So Zelda did all she could: start walking.
The path down the cliff-side was steep in places, but wide and broad. Overgrown by grass, but there were still weather-worn and well-trodden steps of stone, much of it crumbling but serviceable, where the ground dropped the fastest. All around her, crickets buzzed, and butterflies chirped.
She knew the names of some of them... maybe.
Even knew how useful some would be, but could still not remember how. Someone had shown her, once, that the juices and shell of a cricket combined with the petals of a... was it a... sun-wing? No... a Summerwing butterfly could do... something. Maybe there was another ingredient, too. Two? Maybe.
"I hate not knowing," she muttered to herself, and reached down to pick up a rock. She hurled it in frustration out over the woods below, watching the speck disappear into the canopy far below.
It hadn't traveled nearly as well as she expected.
"I'm weak," the resurrected princess continued to mutter, "so weak. How am I supposed to save... anything?"
She was still lost in her thoughts when a deep, oddly reassuring voice startled her out of them.
"You are stronger than you know... Zelda."
"Zelda...? Do you know me, sirrah?"
He blinked. Deep, green eyes, hidden behind the dark hood he wore, glistened in the shadows. "I do... Princess of Hyrule, fallen these many years. Returned, it seems, at long last."
"Then you have me at a disadvantage, I'm afraid."
"Ah. Pardon me... but my name will have to wait. It's a rather boring life story, I'm afraid. I'm just an old fool who's been here, alone, for quite some time now. Yet you... you are something, someone, special. Do you know why you are here?"
Zelda found herself grimacing, "To be honest, sirrah, I'm not sure where here is. I understand Hyrule, and I know that it was a kingdom- my kingdom, I think, if truly a princess I was- but beyond that... I know little."
"Well, I for one do not believe in coincidence," the old man said, his long, bushy white beard twisting as he smiled gently. "In fact, you could say I've been here all this time waiting for you, hoping you would wake when I could still speak to you. In answer to your question, Princess Zelda, this is the Great Plateau. According to legend, it is the birthplace of the entire kingdom of Hyrule. Many, many years ago, before this land was even named, it was here that Hyrule's ancient heroes and royal family began what, at the time, was a fledgling kingdom, made anew from the ashes of an even older one."
The old man groaned as he stood slowly, rising from a log he had been sitting on to point toward the same temple she had seen with one gnarled-looking, black-gloved finger untwisting from his crooked staff to point toward it. "That temple, long ago, was the site of many sacred ceremonies. Kings and Queens were married there, or crowned. Yet, ever since the decline of our beloved kingdom a hundred years ago and more... I forget now, but I counted to a hundred once... it has sat abandoned, in a state of decay. Yet another forgotten entity, a mere ghost of its former self."
"Like... me?"
"Ho, ho, no, that wasn't what I meant at all, fierce little princess," the old man chuckled, "I meant more like myself. I have been here for some time, and for some time longer I will remain. I will be here to help if you need guidance, young princess. In fact... here, I have more practical help. I find myself, in my old age, no longer needing to carry quite so much around. Take this... and this. It's a spare."
She protested, "No, I couldn't possibly-"
"Take what is freely offered, as a gift and offering to a princess? I'm afraid that won't do," the old man laughed again, louder now, "declining the tribute offered to a reigning sovereign- crowned or not- is most impolite, you know."
Zelda felt her face heat, "W- Well, I- I mean- I cannot be a proper princess if Hyrule is not..."
"Ah. I see," the man said again, heaving a long, deep sigh that made his barrel chest swell hugely, "I understand what you mean, princess... and yet, Hyrule does yet remain. It is fragmented, perhaps. Broken, wounded. But as long as you remain, as long as I remain, and as long as that beast is trapped within the grounds of the castle in which you once lived... Hyrule remains. It remains in the hearts of its people, who yearn and strive and work and toil for a better life. A safer life. One their ancestors, a century and more past, once knew.
"That... is a life only you can give them, Princess of Hyrule. So I beg you, reconsider. Take these as my gift. Take them with the hope they represent. Health and safety for you... and health and safety for us all. For Hyrule."
Suddenly, she found herself weeping, where no tears had come before. Zelda collapsed to her knees as the old man's voice trembled and broke at the last word, his stern but kind visage also wavering. "I... I accept," she whispered, finding her own throat choked and strained.
When she was able to regain her composure, Zelda found the old man standing before her, one hand still holding his lantern-bearing staff, the other held out to assist her upward. She took his hand gratefully, smiling shyly at her weakness and lack of restraint. At her foolishness.
As if he knew what she was thinking, the man's voice pierced her heart again. "Think yourself not weak, Zelda. You have been through much, though by your own word you don't remember. And the burden before you is hard. But you need not walk it alone. Find yourself some helpmates, and allies. I would call myself one, if I were not so aged and frail. If I could do more than offer these trinkets and whatever guidance an old hermit who has lived far too long alone on the plateau can give. You are stronger than you know."
Hearing those words again helped the princess steel her resolve, and she looked up at him finally to see, through the remnants of thin, salty water, that his face was still worn and gnarled by many years in the sun, but kind and gentle, and wise. "Thank you. Truly."
"It is my pleasure," he said with another wide smile. "The pouch is enchanted. It will carry more than it would appear, but my skill at the art is a beginner's at best. At least it is sturdy, and I believe it will resist any attempts to steal from it. Sadly, thieves do exist in Hyrule still, as the needy and desperate scrabble to survive. The water skin, too, will hold several gallons. The pond a short way down the hill on your right is clear enough to drink, though perhaps the snow melt higher up would be safer. Or use my fire to boil it, if you've the patience."
"Thank you," Zelda said again, this time actually reaching out and down to lift the two objects, hefting both in her hands. The pouch was designed to fit over her shoulder, with several ties and fastenings leading to multiple pockets. It also had several ties made of beaded, braided strips of leather.
"You can use those to hold weapons. Arm yourself as you can, princess," the man instructed her, and pointed once more down the hill. "There is an old axe in a stump that way you can use if nothing else. I find myself cutting less and less wood these days, and I've got another at my cabin on the other side of the hills."
"Ah. I see," Zelda murmured, glancing down to see that yes, perhaps eight or nine hundred feet off, she could see a hint of water puddling in the path, and near that a hewn stump with a heavy woodsman's axe stuck into it. "I will do that... if you are sure it isn't needed?"
"No, no, go ahead," the man said with a grin that split his face again, this time wide enough to reveal several very clean, white teeth.
For some reason, it struck her as odd that this old hermit would take such care of them.
"Ah... in fact, take this, too. I was making it for myself, since my lantern is running low on oil, but your need is better than mine."
Zelda followed with her eyes as he stepped around the log he had been using as a stool and bent slightly to retrieve a torch, just recently dipped from the look of it, and held it to her handle-first. "I... are you sure? This is so much..."
"And yet, your need is greater than mine. As is that of all of Hyrule."
Zelda sighed as the truth of his words struck her. "Very well. I accept once more. One day, I would like to repay you."
After another belly-shaking laugh, the man smiled, and pointed far down the hill. "That may be easy enough. Down there, can you see the broken rocks near the edge of the plateau? Meet me there when you can. It turns out I have a task that needs doing, and it is better suited to youthful vigor than my old bones. Do that task for me, and you can consider any debt between us well paid."
Zelda smiled gratefully, "Anything in my power, truly. Thank you."
He smiled again. "Don't mention it, princess. Now... if I may offer a word of advice? Go back up the hill. Several healthy mushrooms grow around there. Look for the ones with red caps, as large as your hand or your head. Too small, and they're dangerous, but if it's as large as your spread hand-" here, he demonstrated with his own splayed fingers, far larger than Zelda's own, "you will find them safe to eat even without cooking. They taste better after, of course, but I've no cook pot here, just an old firepit. Roasting might help."
"Ah... thank you," Zelda mumbled, feeling her face heat as her stomach grumbled. With another bow and a shy smile, she found herself following his advice after taking a long, desperate, needy pull at the water skin.
"Not too fast now... take it easy at first," he reminded her, a moment before Zelda felt the need to throw the water skin away. She caught herself just in time, blushing again as the urge to vomit up everything she'd just drank began to rise, then settle as she stopped.
"S- Sorry... I wouldn't want to waste it, it's just..."
"Been a long while," the man finished for her, another kind smile breaking his beard. "Go on then, princess. I'll be here if you need me. Mind the edge of the cliff. The rocks can occasionally be unsteady."
Down the hill, she tugged and tugged, straining, and eventually had to put her shoulder beneath the axe's long handle and heaved upward with her whole body to get it to shift. Then, of course, Zelda nearly dropped it in the dirt because of the sheer weight of it; the thick metal head was as large as her torso, and probably weighed nearly as much as her whole body. Yet, as she attached it clumsily to the pouch, as the man had explained, she lifted it with no more weight than before. A beginner at enchanting, he claims, she thought to herself, yet he can make even this weigh next to nothing? Is that something every beginner can do?
Honestly, Zelda had to admit to herself that she just didn't know. Much like with every other puzzle she had faced.
Back up the hill she climbed, this time keeping a careful eye out for supplies. Anything had to be better than that... huge chunk of metal. It might be useful in a pinch, yes, but she could barely swing it!
After a few minutes, she saw what she had been looking for, what that strange giant of an old man had suggested she find.
Food! Even though her stomach rebelled at eating anything raw, or anything at all, the first of the three large, red- and orange-mottled caps of the mushrooms flew into her belly, barely chewed. The stems she left, suspecting they would regrow quickly, perhaps even overnight. She could cook a few later; there were plenty up here, growing in the cool, moist air and shade of the cliffs and tall pines.
With the satchel she had been given half-full of victuals at last, and the ache in her stomach no longer quite as potent as it was, Zelda turned her eyes to less immediate concerns, though no less important.
Defense. The land was dangerous, the old man had said. Wild, untamed, aside from the occasional spot of civilization left by the last remnants of Hyrule's once powerful, numerous peoples.
And all she had was an axe that was dull, one she could barely lift, much less swing effectively.
But there... a stick! It was just a stick, Zelda knew, but it was the same length as her arm, and it looked sturdy enough. With a grin, she picked it up, giving it a few test swings and then a slap against the nearest pine. The branch, from which it had probably fallen, rattled in her hand, and she winced at the pain.
And she welcomed it.
"I need to get stronger," she murmured, "I have to get stronger. Don't I, mysterious tablet?"
It, of course, didn't answer.
She kept searching. The blue head of a rhino beetle caught her eye, and soon it entered her satchel too, the rest of the insect discarded. The butterflies mostly stayed out of her reach as she reached for them. She was just too slow to catch them, but one landed on her arm and she was able to stun it to the ground before throwing it into the satchel, too.
More mushrooms, and another stick was attached to the bag, too, the exterior loops just enough to hold a spare twig as it swung opposite the machine.
It wasn't much: a couple of sticks, a worn axe, and some basic foodstuffs, along with the well-worn wine-skin and tattered dress she still wore.
But it was something.
By the time the sun was setting, Zelda had found a little more. Now her armaments included five dangerous branches, one slightly used, and a brief climb up to a ledge about three feet higher than her head had garnered another half-dozen mushroom caps, too.
On her way back to the man who had probably saved her life by providing the basic supplies of a pouch to carry things in and a water skin, Zelda realized the tree that had been shading him while the sun beat into his little overhang was an apple tree, too.
Her stomach grumbled again, possibly rebelling against the half-digested, uncooked mushrooms. But she didn't care. They were tasty and savory even without being prepared, and she wouldn't throw them up now. At least, as long as they weren't poisonous, and she believed the old man that they weren't. What motive would he have?
At worst, he'd drug her and rape her... and he'd have done that already. There was no question that, even though he was elderly, as large as the man was he could overpower her.
Zelda shuddered at the thought. But no, his smile was kind, knowing. He knew who she was by name, even though he hadn't revealed his own.
She had to trust him. Had to trust someone.
"I could've just eaten apples," she called as she approached the tree, sending a quick, annoyed glare the old man's way.
"Oh, ho, you absolutely could have. If you'd returned with less than your bounty, I would have pointed them out, you know."
With a grunt of effort, Zelda started climbing. Her sandals and dress were both ill-suited for the task, but with a bit of work and about ten minutes, she'd added three delicious-looking, and smelling, red treats to her satchel.
A bit winded when she hung for a few seconds from the taller branch and let herself drop a few feet to the ground, Zelda panted for a moment before she let herself smile. The first true smile, she thought, she'd had since waking in the strange room up the mountain.
"Ah, an excellent prize," the old man said with another soft chuckle. "Come, share in your bounty. I've actually just fried one up if you want to trade... I have already eaten, you see. One roasted apple for a fresh one...?"
Zelda's mouth practically watered. She knew, of course, that she could spit one on a branch she already carried and roast away... but she was so hungry, and it sounded so good! "Deal!"
The skin was still hot as the old man dropped it into her eager hands, and Zelda had to toss it back and forth to keep from being burned for a few seconds. Once it was cool enough, she brought it to her mouth, and...
Heaven.
The skin was crispy and just starting to char, but the flesh of the apple he'd given her was beyond delicious. Soft, moist, near-boiling with heat and caramelized sugars, but by far and away the best thing she had eaten in... well, according to both him and the device on her hip, over a century.
It sure tasted like it, too.
Zelda quickly found that she'd devoured the entire thing, core, seeds, and all, right down to the stem. "Oh... I'm sorry, how rude of me," she started, "to eat so quickly, it's..."
The man laughed again, another deep belly-laugh, "Think nothing of it. After a hundred years, I imagine I'd be famished, too. Now... the hour grows late. If you wish to press on as darkness falls, I should warn you that the woods below- in fact, all areas in Hyrule- tend to grow more dangerous. The beasts and monsters that now roam the wilds of these once-tamed lands are often nocturnal, or at least see better in the darkness. Then again, many also like to nap when they can, and if caught unawares, can be easily dispatched without a fight. The choice is yours, Zelda. But if you wish, you can simply while away the dark hours here, next to my fire with me. I will promise not to snore."
Zelda couldn't help herself from letting out a little giggle of her own as she thought about it.
Danger was not something she wanted...
But in the end...
"I have been sleeping, it seems, for many years. I will rest no longer until I must," she eventually decided aloud. "I'll press on."
"Very well. Don't be reckless, and you should be alright. Ah... I'll be around. Don't be surprised if you see me in other places. But when you are ready to head to those rocks, as I mentioned, I'll meet you there. And watch out for the Bokoblins."
"B- Bokoblins? What are... those?"
She knew she had known. Zelda could feel that in her bones. She'd once faced a few down herself, in open combat, before her guard could rescue her. She'd even slain two of the four! She felt so proud of that achievement then, but... now, she couldn't recall what they even looked like.
"Ah. Orange, or blue, perhaps black or silver if you're treading into dangerous territory. Large of head and ear, with beady eyes that glow orange in the night, and a single, stubby horn at the center of their brow. Sharp of claw and fang... and cunning enough to use weapons and traps. Do not let them catch you unawares, and most of the ones around here- who only have to deal with me, and are lazy- should be little trouble. The blue more than the orange, or, as they are named I suppose, red, or common Bokoblins. They are the most numerous servants of the Calamity on this plateau by far, but not the only ones. Be wary of the blue. They are far stronger than their red kin, able to lift and throw a full-grown man if he is vulnerable. Shatter shields, break through armor... against an unarmored person, they are particularly deadly. Only face one if you must."
"Alright," Zelda said softly, "I'll... be careful. But I must do what I must. Mustn't I?"
He smiled a bit sadly, "That you must. Go, then. I will be here a while longer. Don't forget to fill your water skin at the lake."
"Thank you again, sirrah. Are you sure you won't tell me your name?"
"In time, perhaps," he chuckled once more. "Now, go, or I'll ask you to keep me company anyway. It has been a long time since I've had a decent chat, and even this old fool has many stories of boring days to tell."
Zelda faked a shudder, because she was sure he was anything but boring, and gave a deep bow before finally heading down the worn path toward the stump once more.
She was able to catch, through sneakiness and guile more than speed, a long-tailed lizard she thought might be edible (if needs must) half-way down the path, and picked a few more apples from another tree, before Zelda was faced with the first true test of her resolve.
When trying to climb another tall, thick tree to gain access to a thick, fresh bird's nest, hoping for some eggs, she smelled a strange odor. A quick, worried glance around in the late afternoon light revealed nothing, but after a more careful look, she spotted it.
Something... blue. Nearly cerulean, in fact, her mind supplied, viscous and goopy, with two large, yellow eyes ringed in red, with deep black pupils framing the basic folds of a mouth. It slithered through the grass, and as it went, the slimy trail left by the creature burned and withered the foliage. That, Zelda realized, was the source of the acrid smell.
She thought about running. It was coming straight for her, but wasn't that fast by the looks of it.
"No," she told herself after a moment, "I must fight. I have to get stronger. I've slain Bokoblins. I can handle... whatever this is! Even if all I have is a few sticks!"
She drew the first one she'd picked up, holding it like her most vague memories of sword-play suggested, in a two-handed grip. The creature bunched up, shook, and then lunged with surprising speed into the air. Zelda reacted on pure instinct, thrusting forward with both hands and a shout, "Hya!"
Somehow, she stabbed it right in the gaping maw, which dripped with lines of drool- or maybe whatever substance passed for a tooth, or both- and skewered the thing completely. Of course, that only meant that its momentum was slowed. Instead of barreling into her and knocking the princess prone, its viscous body slammed around her hands and arms. At once, she felt the caustic substance sting and burn. Zelda grimaced, growling in pain as she yanked her hands free, pulling the stick out at the last moment as the creature dropped to the ground.
Her stick was smoldering and burning, too. It seemed whatever acid made up these creatures, it burned all organic matter the same.
Which meant she was on a time limit.
"If I'm to die on this journey, then so be it," she growled, "but it won't be to you!" She whirled, her entire body spinning on the heel of one sandal, driven by the other, as her hand lashed out to add even more speed to the blow. Another miracle occurred, and her forceful, if graceless, blow smashed through one of the slime creature's eyes, sending it clean free of the body to fly through the air and splatter against a nearby oak. The creature trembled, and she feared it would lunge again...
And then it collapsed into a puddle of sodden goo, the other eye wilting and vanishing into mist and steam. Whatever powered it seemed to have fled, but the caustic acid remained, smoking and burning in the tall grass in which it had been hiding.
Zelda shivered, watching her skin redden and flake, but the stuff, whatever it was, didn't do too much before it dried and began to fall off of her, too. Soon, she was rubbing off the disgusting-smelling substance, all the pain gone but a mild irritation that stretched half-way up her left arm and a bit further on her right. The stick, unfortunately, she gave up as lost, having been eaten nearly clear through. Down to four...
But as she cleaned her arms, Zelda realized something else. Where the bulky mass of the creature's body had been, there were now three jelly-like, almost crystalline globules. The creature's core, perhaps...? They were a little darker, more solid. Zelda poked one quickly, and it shivered, but didn't otherwise move. Yes, her finger stung once more, but while it hurt, she would live. With a grin, she hurried to open her satchel again and, taking a few leaves from the trees just in case, wrapped the globules in their own bits of leaf before depositing them in a pocket by themselves.
To a cunning mind, acid was always useful, and for more than just alchemy..
Her confidence slightly restored, Zelda found a bit of good luck a short time later. Attracted by mushrooms at first, Zelda had climbed up to the top of the rock she found them under, looking for more in the shade of that same massive oak tree, only to find acorns scattered here and there on the ground, instead. And birds chirping... another nest!
Soon, her satchel carried more than just fruits, but nuts and protein, too. If she could find a way to cook them, at least. Zelda did not want to experience an uncooked egg. Even without remembering the look or feel of them, she knew it was revolting.
She saw her first Bokoblin some ten minutes later, after meandering nearly all the way down to the bottom of the hill. It was just as the old man had described: Short, hunched forward, its only clothing a poor loincloth and wrappings around its arms as some modicum of armor, with a single horn and bloodshot, beady eyes above a mouth far too big for its skinny little body.
And it, too, was armed with a weapon: A branch much like her own, only older and more worn.
Unfortunately, the creature saw her just as she noticed it. It shrieked, a weird, rattling, "Rhatchachacha," and then lunged, the stick raised high.
Zelda panicked and threw herself to the side.
That action probably saved her life. Somehow, she tucked into a roll, and the branch smashed into the dirt path where she'd just been with enough force to at least have knocked her unconscious. Her fingers scrambled for another branch, and she grabbed it easily enough, but the thing caught on the braids. The Bokoblin lunged again, this time going for a thrust, followed by a swipe of his dirty, blood-encrusted claws.
The thrust she missed somehow, though it snagged in the lower remnants of her dress, but the claws raked across her right thigh. Zelda screamed in sudden pain, and found herself throwing a single punch forward.
It caught the Bokoblin right in the snout somehow, but she cried out in pain again as she realized its skin was rough and hard, calloused almost like a lizard's, despite the pig-like shape of its nose. A quick glance told her the fingers were bloody, too. The Bokoblin, though, seemed stunned, and it staggered back, lifting a hand to hold the porcine snout as huge tears welled in its beady eyes.
Zelda growled, "You'll get no sympathy from me, monster!"
She took its distraction to her advantage and twisted the satchel around her torso far enough to get at the braids. A pull of one thread was enough to get a second branch free, and that smashed down on the thing's thin wrist, the one holding its own branch. Disarmed, the stick fell to the ground, and the Bokoblin yelped in pain.
Zelda didn't let up, even as it swiped again with its paws, her own reach just a little longer. Unarmed, she could probably reach further, but with the stick, it was easier. She swiped madly left, right, downward, down and right.
The creature took blow after blow, and she heard the branch crack, but it didn't give out before she caught one lucky blow against the Bokoblin's left ear. It spun and whirled, landing face-down in the dirt. She expected it to get up, howl in pain and rage, and charge again.
But it was hissing, almost snake-like.
Then, to her horror, it dissolved. The entire body vanished in just a few seconds into black mist and smoke that made her skin crawl. Where it had been, like the slime creature, were teeth, two of them, and a single horn. Its horn, she realized.
Zelda stared, panting, down at them, the branch, cracked but still half-serviceable, she hoped, hanging numbly in one hand.
She'd done it.
A monster.
A real monster, though apparently a common and weak one, dispatched by her... with a stick. Nothing so glorious and grand as an actual blade, but she'd done it.
Zelda howled towards the sky, turning orange to the west now, in triumph and victory. Her blood surged with power, with confidence. She had slain a foe once more, and she was no mighty warrior. Zelda knew that.
But she was not helpless, either.
Her trophies entered the satchel soon after. If nothing else, they would make for a good story to share with the old man later.
The princess continued collecting eggs, mushrooms, and apples as she finished down the path, which eventually ended at what she suspected was once a parade ground. The ruins of fountains, columns, and flagstones littered the area before her, and to her right, closer to the cathedral, the shattered walls of buildings long collapsed under their own stone and brick weight flanked a cracked, stair-filled causeway. Guard posts, perhaps, for the temple's ancient protectors.
In the distance, near the causeway's first split, another Bokoblin meandered, occasionally picking up a rock or leaf and discarding it. Sometimes, it reached down again and threw whatever it got into its mouth. Insects, she realized. It was eating the bugs from beneath the stones.
Disgusting... but she supposed they had to eat something. Though after her first experience with one since waking, Zelda was already of the mind that they could all just starve.
If only it were that easy.
Still, she elected to follow the old man's advice. She was not one for a stand-up fight when it could be avoided. Cunning and guile were going to be her standard tools. She crept down, slinking around the ruins of the building closest to her. From her higher vantage, she had seen that it approached the lake, but she thought that, from closer, she might use the shadows of the causeway's walls to hide her until she was on the creature. She hoped that even a stick from behind might do the job in a single blow.
She was half-way there when she spotted two barrels inside the building's walls.
Intact barrels... marked with the words Food Storage.
Her stomach, only partially sated by mushrooms and apples, and that now two hours ago, grumbled again.
"Food..."
It was probably old. But preserved, perhaps.
Maybe still edible...?
Over the wall she went at a low-point, the stained white dress sliding almost snake-like across the tops of the weather-smoothed but broken marble bricks.
Getting to the barrels was easy.
Opening them with no tools, not so much.
Zelda thought for a moment about trying the axe, sure that its weight would at least smash them easily enough. But no... that would be noisy, and attract the attention of the Bokoblin, she feared. And as strong as the last one had been, judging by how easily it had ripped new holes in her dress and leg both- thankfully it had only bled for a few minutes, and didn't itch overmuch with infection despite the filth- she didn't want to know what it would do with the heavy axe in its own hands.
Chop her to pieces, probably, without even trying.
Zelda sighed and kept looking. There had to be something...
Finally, after nearly an hour of poking quietly through the rubble of the former guard post, she found a rusted-out bit of metal. A door hinge, maybe, long worn and useless for that purpose. But with it, she was able to slowly work it beneath the lid and pry first one, then the other, open.
There wasn't much serviceable in either.
But among the dross, which smelled truly foul, one salted drumstick of some... well, fowl, still seemed mostly preserved and at least partially edible. It wasn't the dubious-looking mold the rest had been reduced to, at least. In the other, despite requiring just as much work to open, she found absolutely nothing. A few shells of grain, nibbled on by rats, and a hole at the bottom. "Perfect," she muttered. "At least it's something... if I dare eat it."
The next Bokoblin, she saw with a frown, was not armed with some simple stick. It was a full-on, actual club of heavy, sturdy-looking pine, as thick as her thigh. Shorter than her sticks, yes, but it still does a lot to even out the thing's reach.
I'll simply have to surprise it as best I can, and keep it at range. It's all I can do. I can't just slip by; it's far too close to my path.
Zelda frowned once more and resigned herself to dropping belly-first into the dirt, hoping the tall grasses would conceal her approach. It was both easier and harder when she realized she was slithering through a wide puddle some dozen feet across. At least the water is clear, she mourned. Perhaps it will clean the wounds on my leg. ... Or make it worse.
She slowly moved around, using one dark column as cover, until she was beneath the wall itself. Far too low to escape notice. She waited, her eyes watching the thing sniff at the ground, scratch its armpits, and slowly turn to resume its hunt for more bugs.
She was almost on it when it spun suddenly, its nose twitching with a pig-like snort. Again, adrenaline surged through Zelda's body, and her hand, already holding a stick this time, lashed out three times, slashing across its face even while it raised the club.
The third strike threw it backward as the stick shattered. Without a thought, she hurled herself forward toward it, her fingers closing as she rolled around the handle of its own club, dropping as it went airborne.
Down it came, crashing across the creature's skinny, malnourished chest.
It lurched, all four limbs and its head spasming skyward with the impact, and it let out a blood-curdling shriek, then went still. Then it, too, vanished into black smoke.
For the third time that day, Zelda felt her body tremble as the adrenaline wore off as quickly as it arrived.
Slowly, with shaking fingers, she bound the crude club, far better than her previous sticks though shorter, to the satchel at her back and loosened another stick to stay at her side, before bending to pick up what it had left behind.
Another horn, and no fangs.
She was about to grimace about the lack of a bounty compared to the last one, meager as it was despite the weapon, when she saw it.
The column she had slithered around.
Dark, cold, metallic. Not stone. Covered in moss and algae from the puddle that lingered around it.
Bell-shaped.
Zelda did not know what it was.
But it evoked such a feeling of terror in her that she fell to her rump and scrambled backward until she fell backward, rolling down the stairs some hundred feet away, until it was out of sight.
What... what was that? What is that? That... thing?
Zelda did not know.
Eventually, she dared peek over the worn stairs again.
It was motionless, just as it had been before.
Dark, cold, dead.
She swallowed.
You can't let fear stop you, Zelda told herself. It almost worked.
But after repeating the phrase a few more times, she stood once more, looked around for wandering Bokoblins- or perhaps the old man, to answer the several questions that now burned in her mind- and stepped closer.
She even dared prod it with her stick once she reached it, only to be met with a hollow clang.
Whatever it was did not react at all.
With a frown, Zelda looked around. There were more of them all around the temple, each as motionless as this one, though some still had many-segmented legs with metallic pincers at the end. Each also had, as she strolled carefully around it, a central eye. And they were decorated with the same kind of scrolling cloud- and circle designs that had been in the room she woke up in.
As if they were made at the same time or by the same people.
Strange... but that didn't explain why that place, for all its austere coldness, had felt safe. And these things felt so terrifying, even dead.
Or whatever they were.
Zelda shook her head, "It's something I'll have to puzzle out later, I suppose. I still need to look around, get the lay of the land, before I head to the stones that the old man spoke of."
She followed the thin rivulet that fed the puddle she had just crawled through up and behind the building she had circled next, and found a small pond, ringed by stone.
It was crystal clear, so much so that she could see fish swimming in the water several feet away. They were thick and green, and long, healthy-looking. It's too bad I've no way to spear one.
The water, at least, was clean, clear, and cold.
And so good!